


A lot to Think About

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Jim makes a proposition. Joyce comes to a decision, and comes down with a cold.





	A lot to Think About

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr prompt. Follow me @starmaammke for tons more Jopper trash.

It was the third time in two weeks, Joyce Byers forgot her coat leaving Jim Hopper’s trailer on the way to work. Unfortunately, Hawkins was also a week and a half into a mid-November cold snap, with temperatures only reaching 20 degrees by the afternoon. Hopper reasoned that she must’ve been eager to get back to her life of pretending that whatever-they-were-doing wasn’t actually happening, so eager that she was able to ignore the brutally frigid temperatures. At least, that’s what his treacherous brain kept telling him.

He headed off to Melvald’s before work, coat in tow. When he walked into the store, he tried desperately to act as casual as possible, but she was at the front register, the one facing the door, and she smiled at him as he walked in. It was a real smile too, not the painful, weary customer service smile he had seen her give other customers. Hopper felt a blush creep up his neck and settle into his cheeks, and he knew he must’ve given off a glow when her returned his welcoming smile with a dopey grin. 

“What brings you here, Chief?” she inquired teasingly. Ordinarily, he would have asked her to show him where they kept the batteries, and then surreptitiously hand off the coat, but instead he lifted in the air. The store was empty, save for her, and the blatant clue of the depth of their acquaintance went wholly unnoticed. Still, her eyes widened in fear as she looked over one shoulder and then the other. “Oh!” she squeaked, placing one hand over her mouth. She didn’t appear to be upset, which was promising. 

“It’s freezing, Joyce. You are going to catch your death one of these days,” he lectured, walking over to hand her the coat. Pressing his luck, he bent low and brushed his lips against hers in a brief but affectionate kiss. She returned it, albeit hesitantly, and the little voice that told him this was absolutely nothing to her was abated for a moment. 

“Thanks, Hop,” Joyce replied breathlessly. She took the coat from his hands and tucked it in a cubby beneath her register. “And I never get sick.”

“Since I’ve never seen it happen, it’s probably true.”

“Can’t afford it, anyway.”

You could if you let me help. If you gave me some sort of sign that this was serious, I’d step right the fuck up. There were a million replies he could have given, but he chuckled sympathetically instead.

“El has a slumber party tonight,” he announced.

Joyce beamed. “She has friends? I mean, other than the boys? That’s wonderful, Hop!”

He nodded with a little half-smile. “Yeah, they seem like a good group of girls. What I meant was, maybe you’d like to come to the cabin instead? The new addition was finished last week, so I have a proper bedroom now, and I think I’m going to be giving up the trailer full-stop. You might want to get used to being more - I mean- if it’s okay, we might want to think about being more… visible.”

Joyce gave a little gasp and bit her lip. “Oh!”

“Now that we won’t have the trailer to disappear to.”

She nodded. “Uh-huh. Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about and…” the hesitation in her voice was palpable, and Hopper felt his hopes dwindle. 

“You can think about it, you don’t have to give an answer right away. I know how you feel about people talking, especially with the whole Bob thing.”

Joyce’s eyes narrowed and Hopper knew he had picked a poor choice of words. 

“Yes.”

“But it’s been over a year and I think-”

“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Hopper. We’ll talk tonight, but I have to get back to work, and I’m already exhausted so…”

Hopper nodded. “That’s my cue, I guess. See you tonight?”

“At the cabin. eight o’clock.” she clarified in a flat little tone that further punctured his expectations. He tipped his hat, wished her good luck for the rest of her shift, and beat a hasty retreat.

True to her word, Joyce showed up at the cabin at eight on the dot. The first thing he noticed was the slow, shuffling steps she took down the path to the front door. Her thin shoulders were slumped, and her deep, brown eyes were huge and tired in her pale, drawn face. Her greeting was cut off by a series of alarmingly loud, hacking coughs. Hopper immediately led her to the sofa and sat her down, patting her back as his heart leapt to his throat.

“The place looks nice,” she croaked, batting his hand away as he tried to press his palm against her forehead. “Stop.”

“You’re sick.”

Joyce shrugged and sniffled. “I told you I was tired this morning. I think it morphed into something.” Hopper sprang from the couch and rushed to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water. He returned to the sofa and handed it off to her, taking a seat at her side.

“Let me feel your forehead,” he insisted. This time, Joyce allowed it. She was hot to the touch.

“Why did you come here if you’re not feeling well? You need to be in bed.”

Another shrug. “I felt like-” another coughing fit that twisted Hopper’s insides to hear it. “I felt like you might have been anxious to talk about -” she gestured vaguely. “This. And I really did want to see the new place.”

“It could’ve kept until another day, Joyce. You sound horrible. I hope you’re calling in tomorrow.”

Joyce frowned and shook her head with a little half smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Let me rephrase this; you  _ will  _ be calling in sick tomorrow.”

She tried to stand at his announcement, but sat immediately, clutching her head. “Dizzy - and who do you think you are telling me this?”

“Someone who loves you.”

She took a sharp intake of breath and blinked several times before moving her gaze from his face to her glass of water. “I can’t afford-”

“I will make that tight bastard give you sick pay, but you aren’t going in tomorrow. In fact, you aren’t driving home at all tonight, so I’m sorry if you were planning on giving me a live reading of a Dear John letter and leaving, but that’s just not going to happen.”

“‘Dear John letter’? What do you mean?” Her eyes were soft and confused. “Hopper, I was coming over to tell you that I think I want what you want, even if you were an ass about going about asking for it.” She shook her head in disbelief. “You idiot. But I am going home, because I don’t want you to get-” he cut her off by cupping her face between his hands and kissing her full on the lips. She reared back with a gasp. “Sick!”

Now it was Hopper’s turn to look confused. “Excuse me? You just said you wanted what I wanted.”

Joyce shook her head. “I wasn’t calling you sick! I was saying I don’t want to get you sick, and you shoving your tongue down my throat isn’t going to be very helpful.”

“There was no tongue!” Hopper laughed suddenly.

“What?”

“This would end in a fight, wouldn’t it? Our grand declaration.” 

Joyce smirked and then began to laugh, which - like her cold - was infectious. Hopper joined in until she launched into another heartbreaking round of coughing again. 

“Okay, fun’s over,” he announced, moving to scoop her into his arms. She still had the glass in her hand, and ended up spilling the remnants onto the hardwood floor.

“Your new floors,” she moaned.

“I don’t give a good god damn about the floors. I’m taking you to bed and I’m calling in tomorrow to take care of you.” He started for the brand new hallway leading to his brand new master suite. Joyce was tense for a moment before snuggling against his chest.

“This is so stupid. I hate being babied.”

“Then you had better rest up and get back to fighting shape sooner rather than later, because I’m about to be real obnoxious with the pampering.” He kicked open the door and carried her to a king-sized four poster bed. Joyce made a little noise of amazement at the new trappings.

“I guess this will do,” she decided, glibly as he laid her onto the mattress and began tugging off her jeans. When she was finally tucked in under a heavy, down comforter, snug in one of his old flannels, she looked up at him with a sleepy little smile. 

“I love you too, Hop.”


End file.
